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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28289313">Better Company Than a Dead Goldfish</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadOnOffbeat/pseuds/deadOnOffbeat'>deadOnOffbeat</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>A few characters mentioned that I won't tag because they have hardly one sentence, Discussion of past character death, F/F, Flirting, Fluff, Geraskier is a thing and so is Trissefer, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Minor Goldfish Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 02:01:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>13,162</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28289313</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadOnOffbeat/pseuds/deadOnOffbeat</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>An unimpressed scoff was all Tissaia was willing to produce. “You hardly know me. From all you know, I could be the most exhausting and complicated person to be with.”<br/>“Oh, I’m sure you are.” Her eyes playfully twinkled over the rim of her glass. “But you can’t be worse than me.”<br/>“Oh yeah?” Tissaia knew a challenge when she saw one.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Calanthe Fiona Riannon/Tissaia de Vries</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>The Witcher Secret Santa 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So... I hope you enjoy your gift, my dear Giftee! This fic will be either 2 or 3 chapters, depending on whether you, well, want smut or not. I let you decide. :)<br/>2020 was an odd year that ends with an odd Christmas. I hope this little fic gives you joy in these trying times and that, by now, you're feasting on delicious food and hot beverages in the presence of people you love dearly. The next chapter(s) will be posted in the following days. I hope this is what you wished for. I know I had a lot of fun with the two of them! :D</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>In theory, this had sounded better than staying home all alone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Especially since she had found her favourite goldfish dead in the morning. The other fish weren’t nearly as social, curious or interesting, while her favourite one had swum up to her and bumped his little head against the glass when Tissaia prodded a finger against it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without him, home had never felt lonelier. At the very least, he would have been a more pleasant and reactive company than the olive in her martini which she was trying to prick for more than seven minutes now. She finally threw the toothpick onto the bar and watched it bounce down to the floor. The bar owner eyed her with a mixture of curiosity and pity before rummaging under the bar to hand her a new toothpick. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t give up.” Her voice lilted as her lips twisted into a smile. “I was becoming rather invested.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tissaia made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a depleted sigh, took the toothpick and placed it neatly onto the bar so it aligned with her coaster. “Maybe later. I need time to process the many failed attempts.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bar woman laughed; a deep, rumbling sound that made Tissaia look up. Dark eyes circled with khol met her gaze and she couldn’t help but stare. As she took her in, she noticed the creases around the woman’s mouth, the bags under her eyes and the paleness of her skin. It made her look strangely raddled, but there was something captivating about the imperfections. She carried them with the stubbornness of a woman who knew her worth, who wasn’t scared to let everyone know she had lived and learned and was now a stronger person for it. Tissaia found herself envying her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should drink it instead of playing with it. God knows you look like you need it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tissaia decided the woman was right and downed the whole drink in one gulp. The approving look she received felt strangely validating.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here.” A bottle of beer clanked onto the bar. “This one’s on the house.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beer. Tissaia couldn’t think of the last time she’d had beer. A vague memory of illegal barbecues as a teenager came into mind, and another one of sneaking beer into the sunday sermon with Philippa. She smiled until she remembered she hadn’t spoken to Philippa in five years now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>To rid herself of the glum thoughts, she looked up to the other woman opening a beer for herself. “Are you allowed to do that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Giving beautiful women drinks for free?” Her grin turned wolfish. “Absolutely. It’s my bar.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tissaia had actually meant drinking on shift, but she figured this would answer her question as well. “Well, then it seems like I’ve impressed the right woman with my olive-pricking skills.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If she was surprised to hear a witty comeback, the woman didn’t show it. “More like a charity act in this case. Your olive-pricking career doesn’t seem to be flourishing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good thing I decided to become a lawyer in the end, then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Was the decision between the two?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tissaia’s lips quirked up into a smirk as she raised the bottle to her mouth. The feeling of drinking out of a bottle wasn’t foreign, but unusual after so many years. She saw the woman staring at her throat and cleavage that were now fully on view with an unveiled interest and it felt </span>
  <em>
    <span>good</span>
  </em>
  <span>. How long has it been since someone had looked at her like that? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She made a show of placing the bottle on the counter and wiping the corner of her mouth. It seemed to work. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will you give me your name in exchange for the beer?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How manipulative to try and make such deals after I’ve already drunk from it. You can be glad I’m willing to share this information for free.” Tissaia took another long sip for dramatic effect, taking her time to savour the bitter taste on her tongue. “I’m Tissaia.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tissaia.” The way it sounded in her low, throaty voice made Tissaia’s mouth dry. She drank some more to counteract the effect, nearly choking as all of the sudden, a male voice resonated through the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Calanthe? I need a bottle of wine.” Tissaia’s eyes jerked up in the direction of the disturbance and she saw a white-haired man with a ponytail emerging from the storage room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bar woman - Calanthe - bristled visibly. “Go the fuck back home, Geralt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Forgot a present for Vesemir.” He resembled a scolded puppy. “Jaskier sent me to get something. I thought wine would be fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Calanthe rolled her eyes, but turned around to help the man.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Calanthe</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Tissaia mouthed the name behind the rim of the bottle before taking another sip. The name would roll off her tongue well in between moans. She smirked at her own thought and enjoyed the pleasant tingling it created in her abdomen. From how Calanthe looked at her, it was clear where the night would end if she had her way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Would she be opposed to it? Tissaia wasn’t sure. She hadn’t shaved in a few days because her goldfish didn’t care about her personal hygiene all that much and that made her feel a bit uncomfortable. Then again, Calanthe didn’t look like the type to spend two hours on her morning routine like Tissaia did. In her defence, putting twenty-two inches of hair in a bun just took some time. Anyway, she should be fine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lost in thought about hairstyling routines, she had emptied her beer before Calanthe came back. “God help this man.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tissaia snorted. “An employee, I suppose?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Makes a mean Moscow mule, but apart from that, a total nutsack. Well, what do I expect? He’s a man. Foresight is not predisposed in their genes. If it weren’t for his husband, Jaskier… not that he’s any better.” she shook her head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was fondness in the way Calanthe talked about the men, despite the snide comments, and a melancholic undertone that Tissaia couldn’t pinpoint. Men and their lack of foresight… maybe there was an ex-husband. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I gave everyone off for Christmas and this dickhead comes in just to get a bottle of wine, can you believe it? Why didn’t he just go to the supermarket?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did he ask you which bottle would befit the occasion?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Calanthe looked surprised. “Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then you have the reason.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh.” Another beer was opened and placed in front of Tissaia. “For the helpful insight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tissaia felt a bit tipsy already, which was no surprise because she never drank safe for a single glass of wine after a successful case. Aware of the fact that even that one glass of wine could knock her out on the sofa, she vowed to drink more slowly. Getting tipsy was fine, but full on drunk wouldn’t help either of them. “So you decided to spend Christmas all alone, without as much as the presence of your beloved employees?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The assessment made Calanthe open her mouth, then close it again. It reminded Tissaia of her dead goldfish. “I was trying to be polite and not ask what my only customer of the night is doing all alone in a bar on Christmas Eve, but now that you brought it up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My goldfish died, so my plans have been shaken.” It sounded like a joke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, was he family?” Calanthe asked, her tone somewhere between endeared and amused. “What was his name?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He didn’t have a name. I don’t name my fish. That would be silly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, right, as opposed to spending Christmas with them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tissaia chuckled. “I admit this is preferable to their company.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow, thanks,” Calanthe deadpanned and opened a bottle of scotch, luckily only pouring herself a glass, maybe figuring correctly that Tissaia wouldn’t be the type to drink whiskey. “Better company than a goldfish. That could have been a compliment from my late husband.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So a late husband, not an ex-husband. For a second, Tissaia considered expressing condolences, but she thought better of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So,” Calanthe started, a quick change of topic before Tissaia would linger on the matter she had just opened up. “Let me guess, you don’t have anyone to celebrate Christmas with because you have your career, which leaves you no time for personal relations?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm.” Tissaia had been in a relationship not too long ago. Granted, it hadn’t been a long one, and not a particularly good one either. It also turned out he had lied to her from the very beginning, but it wasn’t like she didn’t try. “More like bad luck in the personal-relations-department.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Men are intimidated by your demeanour and paycheque, many flirt with you at first, but as soon as you say a word, they scramble off like scared puppies?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that your experience?” Tissaia raised a playful eyebrow. “I’ve sworn off men for now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have women proven to be less cowardly?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In my experience, women dig the business chique.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Calanthe blinked, then laughed and vaguely gestured in the direction of Tissaia’s grey pantsuit. “I guess it worked for me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The compliment almost made Tissaia blush despite herself and she quickly read the label of her bottle with pretend interest in hopes it wouldn’t show. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she felt like she had salvaged her cool again she looked up to the image of Calanthe shuffling off her leather jacket, revealing muscular arms in a low-cut black top, and lost it again. Calanthe was definitely working out, Gods, she could probably carry her around if she wanted to. How touch-starved was she that her brain snapped from nervous to aroused in no more than a second? And how long did she have to wait before jumping at her suitor while still seeming like a confident business woman and not a randy harlot?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The playlist that had previously played an unobtrusive mix of soft rock songs suddenly switched to a very catchy version of Jingle Bells. It ripped her out of her lecherous daydreams. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aye, what the fuck?!” The Scottish accent that accompanied the bewilderment made Tissaia hide a laugh behind her bottle. “Who fucked with my playlist?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No Christmas songs for your Christmas?” Tissaia teased between two sips of beer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Absolutely not.” Calanthe huffed. “Fucking Jaskier. He’s the only one who’d dare. He tried to infect me with </span>
  <em>
    <span>the Christmas spirit</span>
  </em>
  <span> with all of his might. There were also two songs of his band on the tracklist.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tissaia quickly took a sip from her bottle to mask the hint of emotions that had slipped onto her face. “It’s sweet of him that he tried.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He even invited me to the Christmas party tonight.” She rolled her eyes. “I won’t go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why not?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As she refilled her glass in silence, her eyes were so fixated on Tissaia’s face it was a miracle nothing overspilled. She downed the drink and sighed, a sound honest and sad in a way that made Tissaia’s eyebrows raise unprompted. “Eist died on the twenty-first of December three years ago.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The husband</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “I’m sorry.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Calanthe waved the condolences away with a quick hand gesture, her eyes sad, but her lips already laughing. “We both suffered severe losses around Christmas time. Me, my husband, you, your goldfish.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I suppose,” Tissaia laughed, the sound feeling odd in her throat. She felt bad she even brought her goldfish up now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please don’t make it awkward now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a small shake of her head, Tissaia took a big gulp of beer, trying to swallow the lump in her chest. “I’m trying.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you.” Another drink was poured and finished. Upon noticing the doubtful look she received, Calanthe laughed. “Ah, don’t worry, us Scottish people can hold our liquor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As long as you don’t fall asleep on me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I take my task as your evening entertainment very seriously.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s what I’m counting on.” Tissaia winked. It felt odd to flirt now, but she had promised, hadn’t she? “After all, it’s been a while since someone flirted with me without the intention to get a job at my firm.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>While it was meant to be a joke, her mind at once was filled with undesirable images of Vilgefortz and their relationship and she could hardly keep a straight face. She thought about the way he had romanced her with flowers and compliments, the way that after a long romantic dinner, they had landed in his bed and begrudgingly, about the way she had felt so elated and appreciated the next day. Until she had overheard the phone call, that was, the one where he told his colleague how easy it was to manipulate women. That it had only needed a few soft words and that he would buy the firm from her after a few months of dating, maybe less. They never even notice, he said, because women like her still believed in true love. The only struggle would be bearing her antics and control-freakish behaviour for long enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tissaia had fired him immediately and bought a new goldfish. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Scotch?” Calanthe asked and waved the bottle in front of her face. “It’s a good one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Had she gone quiet for too long? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A small one,” Tissaia caved in with a sigh. Maybe getting drunk wasn’t the worst option after all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She cautiously sipped the drink she was handed, wincing at the strong taste. It made Calanthe give a hoarse, dirty laugh that was infectious enough to conjure a hesitant smile on Tissaia’s lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll get used to it, lightweight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tissaia shrugged. “I’m not going to raise false hopes here. It doesn’t take more than one glass of wine for me to get drunk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh?” Calanthe quickly placed the scotch out of reach. “Then let’s ration it, shall we? It would be unfortunate for you to fall asleep on me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The laugh that left Tissaia’s mouth still sounded sad. The music changing to </span>
  <em>
    <span>Forever and One </span>
  </em>
  <span>by Helloween </span>
  <span>wasn’t helping her glumness to subside. It was silly. Why was she getting lost in blue thoughts about old flames now, for the Gods’ sake? She didn’t have the right to be the sad one in this situation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sad, stupid bastards, the lot of them,” </span>
  <span>Calanthe snapped her out of her thoughts.</span>
  <span> “Everyone who had a chance with you and let you go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An unimpressed scoff was all Tissaia was willing to produce. “You hardly know me. From all you know, I could be the most exhausting and complicated person to be with.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I’m sure you are.” Her eyes playfully twinkled over the rim of her glass. “But you can’t be worse than me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh yeah?” Tissaia knew a challenge when she saw one. “Have you ever shouted at your intern because she dared to disturb your color-coded pencil case?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you ever thrown a spoon at your husband for claiming you have an anger problem?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tissaia couldn’t help but laugh. It resolved the tension in her chest and, for once, she felt like she could breathe again. “Point proven, I’d say.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“At least we’re self-aware,” Calanthe joked. “I’m obnoxiously loud, I never think before I speak and I would rather saw off my arm than ask for help.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I keep people at arm’s length no matter how hard they try, I’m an awful boss and I probably have an OCD, but going to a psychologist for a diagnosis would mean admitting to imperfection.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re horrible. No wonder we’re spending Christmas alone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The assessment caused Tissaia to cringe unwittingly. “You don’t have to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment, Calanthe didn’t know what to say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Allow me an honest comment, will you?” She didn’t wait for the approving nod to continue. “You’re an absolute idiot not to go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.” It didn’t sound like she cared, though.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re trying so hard and still you stubbornly stay here. You could be among people who love you. You’re an idiot not to go,” Tissaia repeated. “An absolute utter idiot to forgo this opportunity.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh right, the opportunity to play-pretend joy and christmas spirit?” The empty glass was placed on the bar with a loud clattering sound that made Tissaia jump. “Dealing with their pitiful glances? Ruining their family Christmas upon seeing all the gifts that remind me of wrapping the last of presents for my husband when the police called? Thank you for that suggestion, Tissaia! Thank you so fucking much!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t throw a spoon at me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t do that anymore!” A pause. “A good psychologist he found for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe you should give me the number,” Tissaia joked in hopes to ease up the tension.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yes, I really should, for the sake of poor little interns crying themselves to sleep because you were mean to them.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>On a whim, Tissaia handed her phone over. Her heart beat in her throat as nervosity overtook her senses. “If you’d be so kind? And type in yours as well, while you’re at it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?” Calanthe scoffed. “I went off on you and you still want my number?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And if you let me, I shall still take you to bed tonight.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was something very rewarding about seeing Calanthe’s breath get stuck in her throat as she blinked in confusion about the directness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Take </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span> to bed,” she repeated, and probably meant to tease the choice of words, but it came out far too breathily to sound that way. “Bold of you to assume you can top me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Calanthe supported her weight with both of her hands on the bar. They were so close to Tissaia, she wouldn’t even need to move her arms to touch them. She lifted the bottle to her lips, surprised to find it empty. Hadn’t she meant to drink more slowly? Shrugging, she took a sip of her whiskey instead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Physical strength isn’t everything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not that she would mind being topped, and oh, she nearly forgot about those biceps. She’d gladly let herself be thrown onto a bed and fucked into oblivion. Touch starvation and alcohol proved to be a dangerous mix now. Maybe she could pretend to fall from the bar stool and… no, that was ridiculous. She was a grown woman and she would not play the damsel in distress to be caught safely in those magnificent arms, just so they could finally kiss and… </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Stop it, goddamnit</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are we quite done staring, dear?” The amused lilt made Tissaia perk up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Give me a few seconds.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Calanthe was definitely flexing her muscles on purpose as she picked up her glass, not that Tissaia complained. “Don’t worry, you’ll have all the time in the world to stare.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The flirty atmosphere created a comfortable warmth in Tissaia’s body and conjured a smile on her lips. Her body felt light, reminding her of the shenanigans of her youth and Gods, had she become old in the last few months. She wetted her lips as Calanthe slowly walked around the bar like a predator stalking its prey. Tissaia turned her body towards her on the stool.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A soft rock instrumental was playing in the background. An absolute cliché, but Tissaia wasn’t able to catch her breath enough to comment on it. Calanthe stood right in front of her and reached out to stroke a few lost hairs back behind her ear. Goosebumps ran along Tissaia’s spine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just let me kiss you first.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tissaia could only nod dumbly before lips were pressed against hers, her own hands circling Calanthe’s back, pulling her closer, kissing. The electric guitar solo started playing. She pulled back and laughed softly. “Perfect soundtrack.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Calanthe hummed an affirmative before kissing her again, clearly not in the mood for words. They kissed and kissed and Tissaia found herself questioning if Calanthe was planning on taking her right here and now, on a barstool in a public bar, and if they should maybe lock the door beforehand, but when fingernails danced up the side of her neck, she found she didn’t really care. She grabbed at Calanthe desperately, trying to get her even closer when their bodies were already pressed flush against each other. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The thick fabric of her blazer was too much of a barrier. Even Calanthe’s top was. Touch starvation was reaching new heights being teased with almost what she needed and she pressed herself against the upper body in front of her desperately. It was hard to kiss now that they were so close, the angle being awkward with Tissaia still sitting and Calanthe standing between her legs. They broke the kiss off laughing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are we trying to fuck or hug?” Calanthe pointed out what they both were thinking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve been so lonely, it’s pathetic.” Why was it so easy to even say that? Was that what scotch did to her?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Goldfish not that good friends after all, huh?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure they tried their best.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Calanthe chuckled before kissing her again, languidly, her hand on Tissaia’s neck gently guiding. The other hand crept up Tissaia’s hip and fumbled with the tucked in blouse until she touched skin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tissaia felt her head spin as heat shot into her core. “Wait,” she panted between kisses and reluctantly pulled away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Surprise and an underlying fear reflected in Calanthe’s face and Tissaia leaned forward, kissing her again in hopes of quelling her worries that something was wrong. “Later.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Later?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Only if you go to that party first.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wh-what?” The look of shock was adorable. “You’re withholding sex from me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“From the both of us,” Tissaia corrected with a frustrated sigh. “Knowing it’s for the better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re forcing me to attend that party?” The message was slowly sinking in. “Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not letting you make that mistake.” She felt the corners of her mouth twitch as her body was fighting the words she planned to say. “Don’t push them away the way I did with people all my life until no one was left to push back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were left in a moment of tense silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come with me then.” The look on her face wouldn’t take no for an answer. “I’m not leaving you alone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have the goldfish.” It came out weak and insecure. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We already asserted those aren’t suitable company.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“At least they’re no strangers?” she explained in a meek voice that caused Calanthe to laugh out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll make sure you don’t get left out. Besides, who says I’ll even go unless you make sure I do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck,” Tissaia relented, knowing Calanthe had a point. She took the hand that reached out towards her and stood up, the height difference blatantly obvious now she had to look up to meet the other woman’s eyes. It made the strong arms all the more enticing and she sighed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or maybe we should just have sex?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No chance, honey, blame yourself for that one. I’m getting the car.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you dare!” Tissaia warned, shooting daggers with her eyes that made Calanthe stop mid-movement immediately. She was glad to know her smoldering glances worked on her as well. “I’m calling a taxi.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Calanthe shrugged, already recovered from the initial shock. “You pay.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Where Calanthe and Tissaia drunkenly turn up at Jaskier's Christmas houseparty. What could possibly go wrong?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter two of my secret santa gift for dreamingmeows20 on Tumblr! :D<br/>Everyone who read the story unanimously decided they want the smut (including me), so I'm going to write it. It might not be finished before the first of Januare for obvious reasons! <br/>Hope you enjoy! &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The cab came to a halt in front of a shabby block of flats. Tissaia hopped out of the taxi and right into a muddy puddle. She looked down to her feet covered in cold grime and made a face. If she had known they were headed to the swamp, she would have worn more sensible shoes. Calanthe laughed at her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not everyone can live in a penthouse, darling.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In fact, Tissaia didn’t live in anything remotely close to a penthouse either, but she didn’t bother explaining. Her experience had shown most people didn’t care about the difference between star lawyers taking on prestigious cases and Tissaia who had specialised in family law. Not that she was dirt poor, of course, her income was still significantly above average. At the very least, it allowed her to live in a part of the city where pathways were actually paved.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on now,” Calanthe urged her on, pushing her forward with what was supposed to be a guiding touch. The alcohol consumption and high heels made for a tricky combination though, and if not for Calanthe’s reflexes, she’d have landed face first in the mud. They laughed as they lumbered towards the door, Calanthe’s arm so firmly around Tissaia’s waist they could hardly walk. Their laughing must have alerted the inhabitants of the building. Multiple lights went on. One window opened. On a normal day, Tissaia would be embarrassed about causing a scene.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“EYYYYY!” A high pitched voice yodeled from the open window of the third floor. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tissaia threw Calanthe a questioning glance. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jaskier,” she shrugged. Tissaia couldn’t help but be just a bit terrified. If that was what his Christmas spirit looked like, she could understand why Calanthe didn’t want to be infected.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The doorway illuminated before the door was jerked open, but instead of the yodeling Christmas guy, a girl looking far too excited for a teenager her age came running towards Calanthe. She was wearing a green Christmas hat that blinked in red and white. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“GRANDMA!” she yelled in such a high pitch Tissaia found herself wincing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hush!” Calanthe snubbed the girl playfully. “I wanted to let her know on the second date.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re here! Looks like my dads owe me fifty bucks now. But honestly, they knew that you’d come, they left all of your favourite songs in the playlist!” Only then did Calanthe’s words settle in. “Did you say date?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The girl’s eyes went comically wide as she fully took in Tissaia. “What a place to bring your date though. Shit’s crazy. I’m going to tell Daddy you brought a date! DADDY!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Did they allow children to do drugs here? Tissaia shook her head. “A bit old to be your granddaughter,” she thought out loud.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, not my biological anything. It’s a bit complicated. I’ll tell you all about it eventually.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“On a second date?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Calanthe smirked at her and elbowed her side hard enough to make Tissaia miss a step. “Depends on how well you give head.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A young man wearing the same green hat as the girl stopped dead in his tracks. “I’ll pretend I haven’t heard that and I hope you’ll do the same.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jaskier, have you let Ciri drink?” Calanthe asked instead. “Her breath smells of alcohol.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Prosecco. Don’t be boring. She’s thirteen.” His eyes found Tissaia. “You’re not a cop, are you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tissaia raised her eyebrows.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You look like one. All authoritative and…” he vaguely waved his hands. “Police-y.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Tissaia responded, unsure what else to say.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, come in, anyway.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tissaia stepped past the blonde man into the shabby hallway. The flowery wallpaper looked like it came straight out of the sixties, and it probably did. Worn-down plank floor creaked with every step. Nails sticking out from the banisters proved to be a safety hazard as Tissaia placed her hand millimetres away from one. She forwent the banister for the rest of the stairs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The way up was more tiresome than Tissaia remembered stairs to be and she took that as a sign to start working on her cardio. Maybe she should make it a habit to use the stairs instead of the lift to get to her own apartment. Her calves cramped when she finally got to the third floor and the stench of weed emanating from the open door made her wince. The smell was so strong she couldn’t breathe and she turned her head towards Jaskier who shrugged.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s legal here, police lady!” Wait, had she missed the moment to clarify she wasn’t a cop? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know, I studied law.” It was an attempt to explain, but he just offered a confused look.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good for you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Calanthe snickered beside her. Tissaia elbowed her as hard as she could.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Calanthe is here and she brought the police!” Jaskier yelled into the living room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“FINALLY SOME FUCKING ORDER!” an old man’s voice yelled back and everyone started laughing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tissaia fought the urge to hide behind Calanthe as they stepped into the living room. She could make out the smell of fresh gingerbread and mulled wine now that she had got used to the weed-stench. The girl from earlier was leaning against the legs of a black-haired woman because, in the crowded room, there weren’t enough seating options for everyone. In her black dress and boots when everyone else was hardly wearing actual trousers, the black-haired woman looked out of place here, too. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s her date,” the blonde girl whispered, loud enough for everyone to hear. “She has a date.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Everyone stared at her and Tissaia wanted to hide in the cupboard. She waved awkwardly, blushing as she realised how stupid that must have looked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is that the pretty woman from the bar?” Jaskier whispered just as loudly as the girl had and poked Geralt’s side. The white-haired man was sitting in a corner and looked just as uncomfortable as Tissaia. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yup.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They had talked about her? Great. She glanced at Calanthe, trying to convey her terror in a second-long look. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uhm,” Calanthe started, feeling prompted to speak. “She forced me to come here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She managed to get you to come?!” Jaskier jumped up from the sofa again and power-walked towards Tissaia. “HOW?!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tissaia took a breath to answer and realised she didn’t have an explanation suited for the ears of a thirteen-year-old. “Well. My methods were rather unique.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She hadn’t meant it to be a joke, but the black-haired woman broke out in laughter. “Ciri, cover your ears!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ugh, mom.” The girl rolled her eyes like only teenagers could. “I’m basically an adult. I know what sex is and I know you can use sex to manipulate people. Dad said you used to do that with him all the time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Someone choked on their drink so hard they coughed while Geralt shrunk as if he wanted to melt into the cushions behind him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wait. Hadn’t Ciri said dads? Who was this mom-person now?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Complicated family connections, I suppose?” she asked Calanthe under her breath, only then noticing the woman had gone into the direction of the open plan kitchen. Oh shit. Hadn’t she promised to stay and make sure Tissaia wasn’t getting murdered by vicious party guests?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Someone changed the music and Tissaia felt her shoulders relaxing. She secretly thanked whoever had saved her from the questioning that had been bound to happen. Instead, Jaskier screeched so loudly she barely suppressed the urge to cover her ears as the Backstreet Boys began singing </span>
  <em>
    <span>Everybody</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A redhead with unruly curls that were hardly contained in a ponytail popped up from behind the boombox and winked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Thank you</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Tissaia mouthed back at her, but the redhead had already sat down beside the black-haired woman and kissed her cheek in an affectionate manner. Huh. Another gay couple. Were they co-parenting together? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She let her eyes roam the room. The people looked cobbled together, not like any of them were related and not like they would normally attend the same social circles. Apart from the two couples, there were two older men, one was as pale as a vampire and laughing with a man who had old, but deep fire scars on his face, the other one was nursing his whiskey quietly in a corner, his grumpy expression betrayed by a warm sparkle in his eyes. Another, younger man was sitting on a kitchen stair, a scantily clad blonde woman on his knees. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A drink was pushed into Tissaia’s hands and she took a sip out of reflex. The strange taste made her look at the person giving it to her. Geralt. She gave him a genuine smile, somehow feeling a connection to the quiet man in a room full of anarchists. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Moscow mule,” Geralt explained. “Hope you like it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s spicy,” Tissaia responded and took another sip to test it again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thought you might appreciate something not as sweet as the hot punch Jaskier made.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She didn’t need any more explanations. If Jaskier’s personality was anything to go by, it was probably pink, glittery and not to her tastes. “Thank you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jaskier was currently trying to get everyone to dance, so she took a moment to give him the most menacing look she could manage to frighten him off. She needn't have bothered. Someone else swallowed his bait: The blonde, young woman with the red miniskirt that wasn’t suitable attire for the season. At least there were reindeers on it. They danced well, Jaskier full of energy and the woman reminiscent of a Christmasy stripper, but who was Tissaia to judge? Her boyfriend was practically salivating, so it seemed to have the desired effect. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry. Our friends tend to be overwhelming.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Interesting characters,” she smoothed over his worries, looking around to find Calanthe again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She went to the bathroom,” Geralt helped, correctly guessing her intention. “Thought I would come find you before anyone else could.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tissaia laughed, surprised by his tact. “I’m glad it was you and not, well, anyone but the grumpy old man in the corner. He looks alright.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My father, Vesemir. You’re right, he’s the least obnoxious. The one with the burn scars, that’s Eskel, and the one drooling over Keira is Lambert. They’re my brothers. Not biologically, he adopted us all. And then there’s Yennefer, Ciri’s mother. Well, not biologically either. It’s all a bit complicated.” He scratched his head. “We used to be together, but we were better suited for other people. Positive people, I suppose. People who bring us out of our shell. Triss makes her smile more in a day than I did in a month. Oh, and then there’s Regis, an old friend. He doesn’t have a family of his own.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Another charity case,” Tissaia joked, referring to herself, but Geralt seemed to misunderstand her and bristled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Calanthe is family the same way he is! She’s been like a mother to me. Before Eist died...” he trailed off. “I shouldn’t have said that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She told me,” Tissaia was quick to reassure him. “Not in much detail, as you might imagine, but she told me the reason for not going to this party.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt grunted. “Nothing has convinced her before. She’d never allow any of us to be alone on Christmas, but reverse logic doesn’t function well on her. We just don’t want her to be lonely.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She couldn’t help her smile from turning sad as she was again confronted with the effort those people expended on Calanthe’s behalf. “I told her not to push you away. Maybe I helped her see the effort you put in her.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The understanding look in his eyes that betrayed more emotional intelligence than Calanthe gave him credit for. He even had the decency not to ask about Tissaia being here and not with her own family despite it being the next logical question to jump to. With the smile she gave him she hoped to convey her gratitude, but he was already looking behind her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before Tissaia could turn around, strong hands pushed under her blazer and she jumped. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Aren’t you getting hot?” Calanthe breathed into her ear, the smirk in her voice audible as she pulled the blazer down Tissaia’s shoulders. Her hands were warm through the thin fabric of the blouse and she acknowledged the resulting shiver with a low chuckle. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt’s expression was somewhere between utter terror and relief, probably torn between being glad to see Calanthe flirting and being horrified to see Calanthe flirting. Tissaia shot him a sympathetic smile, but it was hard to feel sorry when Calanthe touched her like that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She felt the black-haired woman’s eyes on her and turned her head to find the redhead, Triss, whisper into her ear and snickering while they both watched the interaction.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’ve got voyeurs,” she whispered into Calanthe’s general direction without turning her head away from the onlookers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Want me to ask them if they want to watch later?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tissaia slapped Calanthe’s hands off for the remark and brusquely took the blazer out of her hands. “I’m not here to make a show.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, it would be such a pretty show, though.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a scoff, Tissaia walked away to hang up her blazer because Calanthe was right. The blazer had been good to hide in, but far too warm for the sticky air inside the apartment. She remembered seeing coat hooks in the hallway and found them next to the door. When she reentered, the first thing she saw was Jaskier badgering Calanthe, an inanimate Geralt standing beside him, lifting and lowering his hand as if sometimes impelled by the urge to step in, but never quite daring. Useless man. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Anyway, I’m glad you’re here. You can’t be sad forever, Calanthe. I mean, I totally understand it, but don’t blame Christmas for Eist’s death, you know?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tissaia could practically hear Calanthe’s teeth grinding as she listened to the clearly drunk man chewing her ear off about the very topic she was trying to forget.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not a cop!” Tissaia blurted out as she was within earshot. Jaskier turned around at once. Perfect! Just as she hoped.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Whaaat?!” He gasped dramatically. “Why did you lie?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tissaia blinked. “I never said I was one.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt’s snort attracted Jaskier’s attention. “She didn’t deny it either!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You hardly gave me the time to formulate an answer.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Huh.” The young man looked at her for a moment. “I guess I tend to do that. I need more punch.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt followed him into the kitchen like a lost puppy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a shake of her head, Tissaia took a sip of her Moscow mule. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, Geralt’s famous drink. How do you like it?” Calanthe’s voice sounded forced.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It needed getting used to, but I’m starting to like it.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good.” Calanthe sighed deeply and fumbled with the rim of her whiskey glass. “Thank you for the rescue.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He means well.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stupid drunk bastard.” There was fondness hidden behind the frustrated venting. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tissaia cautiously reached out to place her hands on Calanthe’s hips. “You’re unfair. He cares.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know, it’s awful.” An unwilling smile tugged on Calanthe’s lips that made both of them chuckle eventually.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Listen to an old, wise lady who has no one left and hug them all.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The expression of pain she couldn’t quite keep hidden was quickly kissed off her face. Tissaia let out a surprise squeak at the suddenness of it. When Calanthe moved away, she laughed at the wide-eyed look she was given. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s a better look on you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tissaia bristled and wanted to complain, but was cut off by Calanthe’s name being called.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We got presents for you!” Ciri yelled. “Come get them now, even though you don’t deserve them by being so fucking late.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t fucking swear!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wonder where she got that from,” Tissaia mumbled and earned a playfully scorching look.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The gift exchange was awkward and Tissaia found herself clinging to her second Moscow mule so tightly she feared the glass might shatter. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Calanthe was showered with thoughtful gifts. She hadn’t even planned on coming, yet everyone, for the third year in a row, had brought her gifts just in case she might change her mind. Tissaia was torn between being touched and selfishly envying her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, come on! That’s too much,” Calanthe yelled and laughed in good spirits. Hopefully, she saw what Tissaia saw now, how much effort all these people put into her gifts, how happy they were to have her here and never considers foregoing their invitations again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They had even left her favourite songs in the playlist, clearly distinguishable from all the catchy pop tunes and Christmas tracks. Tissaia’s friends wouldn’t know what her favourite songs were, hardly which genre they would belong to. None of them would think about inviting her to a Christmas party. None of them had even called. Her estranged family had all but forgotten her existence and maybe, now her friends had too. Could she even call them friends anymore? Philippa hadn’t called on her birthday five years ago, so Tissaia hadn’t called on Philippa’s three weeks later. When four weeks later, there was still no sign of life, she had reluctantly called and let Philippa shout at her for ignoring her before hanging up. They had never talked again, each of them too stubborn to admit this fight had been stupid. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Seeing what Calanthe’s friends did for her even though she had pushed them away for three years… Tissaia should probably call Philippa and say sorry. It would be too late to pick up the friendship, but maybe they could start anew. Then again, who said Philippa was interested in reconnecting? Her hands clenched around the glass even tighter.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rita could become a friend. Her legal assistant made sure she had fresh coffee on her desk after yelling at an intern and seemed to understand her better than anyone in the firm. The few times she managed to incur Tissaia’s wrath, she had understood the piece of cake that magically appeared on her desk the next day as an apology and peace offering right away. Maybe she could talk to her about it, thank her, invite her to coffee? Dear Gods, would that be awkward!</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tissaia?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The confused voice ripped her out of her thoughts and she shook herself quickly. Jaskier was standing in front of her, his eyebrows cinched into a worried frown.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes?” Tissaia responded quietly, hoping he wouldn’t ask further questions. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Calanthe looked at her, worry creasing her forehead as well. Unwarranted tears pricked at Tissaia’s eyes and she cleared her throat to get rid of them. She focused on Jaskier because his worried look was easier to bear than Calanthe’s. “Sorry, I was somewhere else.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Must have been a hell of a place.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I never drink. Alcohol makes me tired,” she laughed as an excuse, but Jaskier just raised his eyebrows, so she caved in with a sigh. “And ridiculously emotional. I just truly hope Calanthe sees what you’re doing for her because not everyone would.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh no! Oh shit!” Jaskier shouts dramatically. “Tissaia’s envious of all the gifts Calanthe got!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Everyone joins in the mock drama. Soon, the term ‘Christmas emergency’ was established and people started brainstorming. Tissaia was sinking back into the cushions in the hopes of being forgotten over the agitated conversation. Maybe she could make it to the door if she pretended to get a glass of punch? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh no, look at her, she’s thinking again!” Jaskier’s exclamation made everyone focus on her again. “We need to get her presents and quickly!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The redhead - Triss, as Tissaia had learned, had been the first to join the banter in such a good-hearted way it was a miracle how she fit in with all the others idiots. “I’ll draw her a picture… what’s your favourite animal?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh,” Tissaia began, flabbergasted by the question and blurted the first thing that came into mind just to go back to silently enduring this chaos as quickly as possible. “Squirrels.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gotcha!” Triss grabbed a piece of paper and a pink sharpie, the only one lying around. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And somehow, that started a chain reaction. Soon, Tissaia found herself buried in ‘gifts’. Jaskier brought her a juice extractor from the kitchen with the words “It doesn’t work, it’s bulky and in the way, I bet you have space for it in your penthouse suite though!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ciri brought her a half-empty bottle of far-too-sweet prosecco and forced her to drink it for her own amusement as Tissaia struggled to even swallow it from all the sweetness. It was at that moment Tissaia couldn’t hide her own laugh behind the reproachful mask she had put on. Yennefer threw chocolates, definitely going for her cleavage and helplessly covering her hair and white blouse in chocolate stains. Geralt asked for her favourite songs to put in the playlist. Lambert wanted to give her a lap dance, but when Calanthe pointed out Tissaia was done with men, he gladly offered Keira to do it instead. The scantily-clad blonde refused, luckily, not because she didn’t find Tissaia ‘fumingly hot’ (her words), but because she knew incurring Calanthe’s wrath was not worth the fun. Eskel folded a paper plane that didn’t fly and was so crinkled Tissaia’s OCD nearly made her throw it out of the window, but she felt like that would be impolite, so she threw it at his head instead. Regis just shook his head at all the nonsense, and Vesemir waited until the end to hand Tissaia a big glass of his expensive whiskey. He said he never shared it with anyone, but after what she had to go through now, she deserved it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And Tissaia? Tissaia was somewhere between utterly baffled, strangely touched and laughing so hard her ribs hurt. When Yennefer’s chocolates landed right on top of her head and stuck there, she was crying with laughter, and so was anyone else. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Triss brought her the finished picture, and when she tilted her head, she could almost make out the shape of a squirrel. It could have also been a horse. Or an oddly shaped bush. When she pointed that out, Triss slapped her shoulder so lightly in mock-reprieve that Tissaia almost didn’t feel it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on! You can’t deny that I worked most on my gift!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I will stick it onto the door of the refrigerator and ask anyone who enters my kitchen to tell me what they see.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Will you write a psychological assessment depending on the answer?” The witty comeback from who she had thought the most innocent and cute from them all surprised her and she begrudgingly admitted she had thought her to be simple-minded. Oops.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“At the very least, I know they’ll be imaginative if they perceive a squirrel!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is that the test to see if they’ll be good in bed?” Jaskier shouts from the other end of the room, somehow able to listen to every conversation at the same time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tissaia picked one of the chocolates from her expensive dress pants and threw it at Jaskier. He dodged under it and it landed in a flower vase.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you see that? Did you see that?” Tissaia turned to everyone, excited like a child. “Has anyone filmed that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Calanthe came up to her, a big smile on her lips. “Gods, you’re adorable.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tissaia found her joy faltering upon hearing those words. “I’m just happy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It makes me want to see you like that at all times.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tissaia clenched her teeth desperately in an attempt to keep the emotions out of her face. “Don’t take on such a task. I’m hard to please.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She thought back on numerous relationships, on her own too-high standards that no one could dream to meet. Truly, she was a horrible person to be with, to be around, probably. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Says the person who nearly falls off the couch laughing because someone threw chocolates into her hair.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’d normally scream.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why not now?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was such a question, yet Tissaia couldn’t find an answer. Why in the devil’s name did she not snap like a rubber band stretched too thin with all the attention? Why did she not get mad at the ridiculous gifts? Why did the chocolate stains on her blouse not bother her at all?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have no idea. I’m made into a laughing stock and I don’t care at all.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re not a laughing stock. People just tried to make you feel better. They’re good at that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clenching her teeth again, Tissaia nodded. “They are.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They like you.” Calanthe sat down next to her, close enough that their legs touched. “Ciri told me she likes your guts. Triss said your smile lights up a room, though it looks unpracticed like you don’t smile enough and that I should change that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Triss,” Tissaia whispered and shook her head. “Strange girl.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just a bit too philosophical for her own good.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tissaia’s eyes fell shut as Calanthe softly brushed loose hairs out of her face and she giggled softly as her head started spinning pleasantly. She had definitely drank too much. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe we should get home soon.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your place or mine?” Tissaia was quick to ask, her eyes opening more slowly than usual. “Because I’ll die if I don’t have you between my legs tonight.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ew! Gross!” Jaskier shouted from the other side of the room, nursing his sweet cocktail.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Choke on a cock, dickhead!” Calanthe shouted back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Later!” he yelled with an exaggerated wink and Tissaia looked at Geralt, who looked a bit embarrassed, but not entirely adverse to the idea. She chuckled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s go to my place then. I have an amazing rainwater shower and I really need to wash.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She took a loose strand of hair between her fingers that was sticky with chocolate. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Calanthe kissed her at once, as though the gesture had prompted her to do so. It was short, but passionate, exhibiting a desperate need even in its brevity.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Call a cab again then,” Calanthe murmured still close to her lips. “I’ll pay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Finally, only took me about a month to finish this one. Oof. Sorry! I made it extra long to make up for it! </p><p>Also, this is smut.<br/>Thank you for reading and enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Not as fancy as I imagined,” Calanthe grinned as she shrugged off her leather jacket and hung it over the heating. Tissaia couldn’t keep her lips from twitching in discomfiture. There was a hallstand right above the heating. How hard could it be to put the jacket on a clothes hanger? She quickly turned around and headed to the kitchen. It was just a leather jacket over the heating. No big deal. She could deal with a jacket over a heater. Hell, she didn’t even have to see it there as soon as they were in her bedroom. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” It came out more gruffly than intended and she quickly forced herself to raise her spirits. “What is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s six am.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?!” Tissaia turned towards the clock on the wall and, without a doubt, Calanthe was right. “Shit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s what I said.” Adjusting the straps of her top, Calanthe let herself sink onto a kitchen chair in defeat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll make us coffee. Do you want breakfast?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d rather eat something else.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tissaia halted mid-movement refilling coffee beans into the grinder. She turned around to look at Calanthe in mock-reprieve, but when she saw the overly salacious grin, she couldn’t help but laugh. “Coffee first.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re really gonna make me wait for longer? Do you want me to fall asleep on you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aren’t you used to going to bed in the early hours of the morning?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I stopped doing late-night shifts as a birthday gift to myself. It was a present long overdue, if I’m honest. Ever since turning forty-five, I just need more sleep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve stayed up past midnight? I really need that coffee.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tissaia couldn’t help but smile to herself as she filled water into the machine. When Calanthe was at least forty-five, it meant she was older than her, and while that was a stupid trifle to be elated about, it still put her mind at ease. It wasn’t like she was generally self-conscious or deemed herself too old to be attractive </span>
  <span>–</span>
  <span> she worked hard to maintain her health and beauty, and, while it got harder to get rid of the annual winter flab with each passing year, she still managed fairly well, thank you very much. However, Vilgefortz had called her an old hag on the phone, and it had left a bit of a scar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So deeply in thought, she hadn’t noticed Calanthe standing up until she was right behind her, her body warmth noticeable from how they nearly touched. Tissaia held her breath, thankful that her muscle memory allowed her to press the right buttons even in a moment of total brain malfunction. Strong hands snaked around her hips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What a fancy coffee maker.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Indeed. What do you want?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d much rather show than tell.” The voice so close to her ear left goosebumps in its wake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was hard trying to sound unamused with weak knees at risk of giving way. “For coffee, I meant.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead of answering, Calanthe reached around to press the buttons herself. Espresso.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For efficiency?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You get me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tissaia could feel her smile against her ear, hands growing courageous and starting to pluck at her blouse. She slapped them away. “I’m handling boiling water.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I forgot. Coffee makers. Terribly dangerous technology.” Calanthe removed herself dramatically, and Tissaia wished she hadn’t said anything the moment the lack of contact left her feeling cold. Carrying the two coffee mugs to the table created a substitute warmth, but it just wasn’t the same. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here you go,” she said as she let herself sink onto the chair next to Calanthe, shuffling closer so their legs almost touched.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Calanthe took a big sip right away, probably burning away the entirety of her oral mucosa in the process. Not that anything in her face gave it away. Maybe the routine intake of alcohol had desensitized the insides of her mouth? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or maybe she was simply to focussed on Tissaia. With only one hand needed to drink coffee, the other one soon found itself on a mission to open Tissaia’s bun. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was an awkward feat with one hand and Tissaia stepped in to help, loosening the strain on her roots with each strand that fell freely. She shook her hair out, adjusting it over one shoulder and met Calanthe’s longing gaze. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The non-coffee hand moved to caress her hair with utter care and reverence. “Gods, you’re…” she made a face, pulling her hand back that was sticky with chocolate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In dire need of a shower,” Tissaia completed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Calanthe laughed as she wiped the chocolate stain onto her dark jeans. Tissaia’s lips twitched again. There were paper towels on the table. How hard could it be to pull one from the dispenser? She emptied her coffee to hide her discontent. “Well, then what are we waiting for?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Calanthe leapt up at once, holding her hand out in a dramatically chivalrous way. “M’lady?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re terrible.” She took the hand nonetheless and didn’t feel like letting go until they were in the bathroom. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Now, this is decadent.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bathroom truly was. During the renovation last year, Tissaia had had more money to spend than usual and it turned into quite the opulent display. White tiles had been replaced with black marble on the side of the shower and bathtub, the white tiles on the other three walls assuring the room still looked spacious. The bathtub was big enough for Tissaia to swim in (or, in a desperate second thought, big enough for two), the shower was huge with the rain-water shower head fixed to the ceiling. Showering felt like a trip to the spa and it had vastly decreased Tissaia’s stress levels. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll have to warn you, every shower will feel lacking after this one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh? So confident in your skills?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tissaia sighed. “I did mean the shower itself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She only got an innocent smile in return.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Turning on the water submerged the entire room in the relaxing sound of water dripping on tiles. On bad days, it soothed even her most agitated mind. It was like magic. A loose smile on her lips, Tissaia turned around, fumbling with the buttons of her blouse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Calanthe growled, making her stop dead in her tracks. “You left me waiting all night. Don’t you fucking dare undress yourself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tissaia wanted to laugh and make a witty comeback, but she hadn’t expected the rapidity of Calanthe closing in on her as soon as she lowered her hands. Every answer was drowned in a desperate kiss, harsh and full of teeth, wet and a bit overwhelming. For a moment, Tissaia could hardly reciprocate. Nimble fingers opened the buttons of her blouse one by one and vaguely, she was glad that, even in her rampant desire, Calanthe had enough common sense not to rip them apart. Warm hands were grasping at naked skin, familiarizing with her shape, gliding down the curve of her waist and up the muscles of her back, pushing off the blouse as they went. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t until Tissaia’s naked back hit the cold shower door that she came back to her senses. A pathetic shriek left her mouth and she arched her back away from the glass. Calanthe laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, you!” Tissaia threatened, but the strictness got lost in laughter. Instead, having her head cleared helped her realise that she had been rather useless, and that she was already half naked while Calanthe was still fully dressed. Full of determination, she captured her lover’s lips in a kiss. She’d be damned if anyone thought of her as a pillow princess. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her cold hands touching skin made Calanthe twitch, and it served as petty payback for the cold glass on her back, but the resolution didn’t last long. When a finger dipped into her waistband, all thoughts about reciprocating were lost as she tilted her hips upwards, meeting the touch halfway, surprising herself by just how wet she was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The tightness of her slacks hindered their movement, but Calanthe still managed to rotate her wrist enough to rub against her clit, as long as Tissaia’s hips stayed tilted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This way, it was hard to think about anything but how to improve the angle for the friction she craved. She remembered not wanting to be lame, however, so with shaky fingers, she opened Calanthe’s bra, trying not to lose the rhythm of her rocking motion in the process. Breasts sprang free from their hold, a welcome new area to explore with, and Tissaia both delighted in and commiserated the fact that they were sensitive enough to make Calanthe squirm and lose her rhythm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tissaia ground harder, trying to remind her to move, but it just made Calanthe laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I appreciate your eagerness, but you’re kind of breaking my fingers here.” She pulled back, moving her fingers as though to test their function. “Also, I don’t have to pay for it, so I shouldn’t care, but we’re definitely wasting water.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tissaia had to restrain herself not to whine at the lack of touch, but she admitted Calanthe had a point. Rainwater showers weren’t necessarily water-saving. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They quickly undressed and stepped into the shower, closing the glass door behind them. The water was the perfect temperature: A tad too hot to be comfortable at first, heating up her skin at once as the water cascaded down her back. Calanthe was standing in front of her, not moving as though the image of Tissaia’s body rendered her motionless.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slicking her hair back to make sure no water ran into her face, Tissaia curled her lips into a cocky smirk, took a step forward and raised her chin to meet Calanthe’s eyes. “Stop wasting water. You should get wet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you worry about my sufficient wetness,” she murmured, making Tissaia give a laugh that was soon swallowed in another heated kiss. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reluctantly, Tissaia pushed her away. “I really have to wash my hair.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, go ahead.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Muscular arms grabbed Tissaia by the waist, turning her around with enough force to make her yelp in shock. She wavered, for a moment fearing she might slip and fall, but Calanthe had her pressed to her upper body, one protective arm slung around her, the other one already traveling down her abdomen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The shock had made her heart beat fast enough to make her dizzy, the hand between her legs only furthered the effect. She gasped and let her head fall back against a strong shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t forget about your hair.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The challenge didn’t go unnoticed and with determination, Tissaia grabbed the shampoo bottle from the metal basket in the exact moment a finger dipped inside. Her free hand found purchase on the wall. It allowed Calanthe to circle her arm closer around her, the angle enabling her to slip in deeper. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tissaia thanked the Gods for Calanthe’s strength as her knees gave way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Already giving up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” she hissed, trying to open the bottle with one hand. The way Calanthe breathed into her ear didn’t help her concentrate. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t squirt without the other hand.” A moment. “I mean the shampoo. I cannot squeeze the shampo into my hand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Calanthe broke into laughter, loud and hearty. “Oh, I had no idea we were already that far down the road.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She pulled back anyway, allowing Tissaia to straighten up, who wasn’t quite ready for how quickly the fingers resigned to rubbing her clit. Physically, she was now able to wash her hair. Mentally was another matter entirely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hardest part was that a big part of her didn’t want to wash her hair. She wanted to lean back, close her eyes, and enjoy. Tilt her hips a little to improve the angle. Maybe a bit to the side or…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tissaia?” A soft, teasing voice ripped her out her thoughts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh, right, shampoo. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She squeezed it into her hands, the smell of rosemary and lemon grass penetrating her senses. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Right at that moment, Calanthe found the spot that just made her whole body collapse against her. Almost too much, making her want to push against her and arch away at the same time. She still managed to massage the shampoo into her head, a laugh rising in her chest from the strangeness of the situation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Calanthe chuckled into her ear, adjusted her motions, finding out just how exactly Tissaia needed to be touched. The hair was forgotten as an orgasm came into reachable heights. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Uncaring of the foam in her hair, Tissaia threw her head back onto Calanthe’s shoulder, grinding down hard to urge her on. Fingers went faster, a bit harder, making Tissaia gasp out an affirmative. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on,” Calanthe breathed into her ear. “I want you to come before even rinsing your hair.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For your ego?” Tissaia gritted out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. And because I waited for hours.” The whiny quality to her voice made Tissaia laugh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then do a better job.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like this?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tissaia could only nod, the onslaught making her have to take deep breaths. The delusion of the water drowning out all of her own sounds made her feel more comfortable than usual. Breaths turned into groans deep in her throat, her fingers gripping helplessly into slippery tiles. A vague thought about how she wasn’t usually able to come standing up was quite unceremoniously discarded the moment she did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A strangled gasp originating in a lack of mechanical capacity for breathing escaped her mouth, loud enough it could definitely be heard through the downpour of water, and even if it wasn’t, the way her back arched out as hot pleasure pierced through her core gave her away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Legs a quivering mess, she slowly regained her breath slumped against Calanthe’s body, who peppered her with kisses and held on so tightly she momentarily wanted to forget this was a one-night-stand. No, it wasn’t a one-night-stand anymore, was it? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll meet again after tonight, won’t we?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Every hope about the water drowning out sound was lost the moment Calanthe responded easily to the desperate whisper in a similarly hushed tone. “Of course, my dear, we will.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She should be insulted by the soft, comforting voice, push herself away and insist she was a capable woman who didn’t need senseless platitudes in her life. Yet she found herself falling deeper into the comfortable embrace instead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stayed like this for a while, Calanthe not budging before Tissaia grew restless and began rinsing her hair.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eventually, they reached the bedroom, and truly, it was remarkable how long it took them to get here. It had been strangely domestic to get ready for bed side by side in matching robes, Tissaia still buzzing from the aftershocks, a warm smile glued to her face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wasn’t a romantic person, and she certainly wasn’t stupid. In particular, she didn’t want to think of the woman who wouldn’t even put her jacket on a hanger as some kind of God-given soulmate. Quite possibly, they wouldn’t even be able to cohabitate the same space for two days without starting a feud. However, she couldn’t shake the feeling of this being special. It certainly didn’t feel like her usual one-night engagement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tissaia dimmed the lights to a comfortable gloaming. The way to her bed was strangely loaded with anticipation and nervousness despite the shower beforehand. With a playful curl of her lips, Tissaia pulled the tie of her robe, letting the fabric fall open as she sat down on the bed, allowing Calanthe to push it off as she straddled her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They kissed softly, languidly, with already practised ease, their hands moving across warm skin, damp strands of hair tickling Tissaia’s neck a welcome distraction to the heat in her core.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was clearly pushed into submissive positions as a norm now and that was something she planned on changing, but… not now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not when Calanthe was guiding her back down on the mattress so carefully, touching her with mindful hands. It wasn’t so much sensual as it was calculating, almost as though she was trying to put what she learned about Tissaia’s body in the shower to practical use. It was experimental, yet reverent, and reliable enough to lean into. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tissaia’s fingers were twitching when a voice inside her head told her she was boring again. However, when her hands reached up to do something, anything, to make sure she wasn’t as listless as a lifeless sexdoll, they were simply pushed down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, Tissaia had no choice but to close her eyes and allow herself to relax. It wasn’t an easy feat, she was used to sex being an exchange of sorts, and that being good in bed entailed taking charge. With Calanthe being so adamant about leading, though, who was Tissaia to disagree? At any rate, she could turn the tables after another orgasm. No need for stress. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A sudden strong lick against her folds jerked her out of her thoughts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t fall asleep,” Calanthe joked looking up from between her legs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wasn’t, I was…” </span>
  <em>
    <span>contemplating</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she wanted to say, but her breath got stuck in her throat as another lick made her whole body jerk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just stay with me, that’s all I’m asking for.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That, Tissaia could do, and when Calanthe continued her ministrations, softer than before, she found herself not even wanting to think about anything else anyway. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She was panting and covered in a light sheen of sweat, happy and sleepy in her comfortable position on soft pillows. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Calanthe had her legs crossed and sat beside her, drawing mindless figures on her abdomen with soft, rounded nails. “Ready for bed, darling?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pet name had been established somewhere between the second and fourth orgasm. The alarm clock on the nightstand was showing 8:30 am, and yes, Tissaia was sleepy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had got carried away. Calanthe was just a bit too talented with her mouth and maybe it had been too long since someone really made her feel like she could lean back and enjoy without repercussions. That didn’t mean she was going to fall asleep without reciprocating though. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sitting up, she captured Calanthe’s lips in a kiss. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Still haven’t had enough?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I have.” She tucked her legs under herself to sit up on her knees, and pushed Calanthe back into the mattress. “I doubt you have, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stopped when she felt Calanthe tense under her hands. Backing up, she cocked her head to the side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The crease between Calanthe’s eyebrows was deep with worry, her jaw tight and eyes searching. “You don’t have to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It only caused Calanthe’s frown to deepen. “I enjoyed my time up there. It’s really late.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But do you want to?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-I…” the stuttering sounded wrong coming from Calanthe’s mouth. Tissaia sat back entirely, clasping her hands in her lap and waited patiently until an actual response was formed. “It’s not that I mind, I just somehow thought you’re comfortable in a bottoming position.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a soft barb, not the honest answer she had obviously planned on giving. There was a part of Tissaia that was disappointed in her chickening out, even though she should be understanding of her situation, since she was usually the one deflecting with sharp humour instead of giving in to weakness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Excuse me?” she joined into the banter with mock-offence, using her body weight to push Calanthe down in one swift motion. “When I said I would take you to bed, did you think I was joking?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, no, I thought you would try, and fail, to top me. But seeing as you haven’t even tried?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I’ll show you how I try.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tissaia was tiny and she knew that, but play-wrestling with Philippa in her youth had given her a trick or two on how to fixate a stronger opponent. Her shins on each of Calanthe’s thighs with her feet tucked under served as a great way to keep her lover’s legs in place, her arms spread across Calanthe’s collar bones, fixing her upper body in place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not that Calanthe actually tried to struggle. With her pupils blown wide and mouth half open, she looked too surprised to act. Tissaia took her shock as an invitation to kiss her freely, putting pressure on Calanthe’s upper body as she leaned forward, revelling in the fact that Calanthe seemed to enjoy being pressed into the mattress. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With her eyes closed and head turned to the side, it was almost like she was trying to hide that she did, but the telltale gasp when Tissaia pressed with just a bit more weight betrayed her. There was almost a hint of sadness in her features when Tissaia had to remove one arm to trail down her body. She didn’t complain though, probably aware it was all for the greater good. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tissaia teased the damp curls between her legs (to think she had worried about not shaving a few hours ago), her other arm moving across so she could still hold Calanthe down, for show, of course, because there was no way she could actually hold her balance like that if Calanthe moved.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop teasing me, woman.” The deep voice all but growling into her ear sent sparks through Tissaia’s body. It didn’t have that much of an effect on her while she was on her back. Maybe it was the desperate quality to it that did it for her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Needy for someone who claimed that I don’t have to make them come.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s late, get it going before I fall asleep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, according to your heart rate, you’re very much awake.” She could feel it from the way her arm laid across Calanthe’s chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck me already.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gladly.” She pushed herself up to improve the angle of her wrist, spread the slippery folds and pushed a finger inside, another in the next thrust when she noticed just how wet and ready Calanthe was. She set a fast pace, curling her fingers, finding the spots that made Calanthe forget how to breathe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was taxing on her wrist, but when she tried to move and decreased the pressure on Calanthe’s chest in the process, the whine at the loss made her give in and rather take the risk of an aching wrist tomorrow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead, she pressed her knees into Calanthe’s thighs, weighed down on her chest as she pushed in deeper, harder, her hand turning a bit to reduce the ache and accidentally finding a spot that made Calanthe clench around her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The groans she made were divine because they were so unguarded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you like that? Being fucked into the mattress? And to think you doubted my topping skills.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Calanthe was a mess, the attempt to rile her up failing when all that came as a response were needy whimpers. Her eyes, still firmly closed, scrunched together even more when Tissaia’s thumb found her clit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look at me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was reluctance in the way she opened her eyes, and when Tissaia saw the tears brimming in them, she felt like she knew why. For a moment, she wanted to pull back and apologize, but even her short moment of hesitance had Calanthe desperately grinding on her fingers. So she continued, bowing down to press soft kisses to her neck and whisper into her ear. “Are you alright there?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A ragged sob escaped Calanthe’s throat as she nodded. “More.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tissaia didn’t need to be told twice. Besides, leaning down provided a better angle for her wrist and adding a third finger took some strain from her tendons. She slipped into her with renewed vigour, pressing against her clit hard, feeling harsh breaths against her cheek. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her hand across the sternum inched closer to Calanthe’s neck, encompassing it with soft fingers, her thumb stroking over her beating pulse. It was a protective gesture, she hadn’t even taken into account that it resembles choking before she saw it with her own eyes. Tissaia almost pulled back then, but from the way Calanthe shivered, it had been the right move.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She rubbed against her g-spot, pleased that when Calanthe’s hips met the touch she was able to push just a little deeper and faster. Without the knees holding her down, she would have probably been arching off the bed right now, but like this, she was forced to stay still, her hands gripping the bedsheets in an attempt to stabilize herself. It suddenly struck Tissaia as odd that Calanthe hadn’t reached up and touched her the entire time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck,” Calanthe gasped, her voice betraying her exertion. “Fuck, I… Fuck.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you need something else to come, darling?” she effortlessly copied the nickname.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“N-no. Just… harder.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was unclear what exactly Calanthe meant so Tissaia went with gut feeling. She was already setting quite the vicious pace and going harder might break her fingers, so she settled on concentrating on her thumb circling with more of an actual rhythm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That did the trick.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She arched hard enough to nearly push Tissaia off, but she weathered on, fucking her through the orgasm as she trembled beneath her, feeling wetness pouring down her forearm, possibly drenching the sheets below. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The groans only increased in volume and Tissaia wasn’t exactly sure if Calanthe had already come and was coming again or if she was on the brink of her first orgasm, but she decided to keep going until she was pushed off with sheer force. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tissaia was sweating when Calanthe collapsed back into the sheets, trembling like an aspen leaf. Slowly, Tissaia extracted her fingers and moved to lie down beside her. Her fingers and arm were indeed wet, so was a big patch underneath Calanthe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you told me you were a squirter, I’d have brought a towel,” she joked in the direction of the woman who had covered her face with an arm to hide from the light. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-I’m not, I mean, I’ve… never.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was only then Tissaia noticed that Calanthe was, in fact, sobbing. It was quiet, ashamed and meek, but unmistakably the sound of someone crying. Fear gripped her with icy hands as she quickly moved to push Calanthe’s arm away, proving she was right. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tears were streaming down her face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh dear, what’s the matter?” she asked softly, stroking strands of sweaty hair out of Calanthe’s face. “What’s wrong?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Calanthe just shook her head pleadingly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll fetch you a glass of water, okay?” The wish to flee was quicker than her logical thinking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So Tissaia did, and awkwardly sat on the bed, unsure what to do. She wasn’t good at comforting. All she knew was that tears didn’t suit Calanthe, made her look old and sick, and that she definitely didn’t want to see Calanthe cry ever again if she could avoid it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She took a deep breath to gather up courage. “Can I do anything to help you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine, I promise, I’m fine. It’s just...” She laughed helplessly. “Hold me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was something Tissaia could work with. She quickly laid down again, ready to spoon Calanthe, but Calanthe seemed to have other plans as she pulled her into an embrace, holding her so tight Tissaia was all but on top of her again.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Tissaia realised and quickly slung her leg over strong thighs. It calmed Calanthe immediately. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have a thing for that, don’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Calanthe chuckled weakly. “Didn’t think I had.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s fine, you’re very comfortable. I volunteer as a comforter whenever you need it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry for squirting on your bedsheets.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tissaia laughed. “I’ll change them in the morning. Just move closer so you don’t have to lie in it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She surprised herself with the statement. Since when was she fine with sleeping in a sullied bed? Was Calanthe’s attitude already transferring over to her? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe she was just tired. Yes, that must be it. “Are you better now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah… Sorry for that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tissaia’s fingers stroked through her lover’s hair, the comforting gesture making Calanthe relax into the pillows. “Were you overwhelmed?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… yes, I think so. You, on top of me, so grounding, and the hand, here, on my throat, that just... “ she held Tissaia more tightly against her. “It felt safe.” The words were but a whisper. “Pathetic, isn’t it?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s beautiful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s sad.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll keep you safe until the feeling will be a given to you. Until it doesn’t overwhelm you, but becomes a constant in your life. I…” she fell quiet as the extent of her words weighed down on her chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s fine. You’re drunk. It’s late.” There was a sadness in her voice that Tissaia just couldn’t bear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because she did. Tissaia was not a woman for empty platitudes, nor for ill-considered choices and once decided, nothing could lure her away from achieving whatever it was her mind was set on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her mind was set on Calanthe now. On working this out. Healing together until it was a given to be whole.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh, how stupid it was to talk like that after one night. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Calanthe’s shoulders tensed in the telltale way that insinuated she was crying again, but Tissaia didn’t bother to look. All she did was to move closer and press a hand against the quivering sternum, providing steady comfort. It always helped her calm down when anxiety hit her like a bus on a motorway and it seemed to work for Calanthe too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean it. I promise, I really do.” She continued whispering until the sobs subsided and Calanthe fell silent again, her face hiding in Tissaia’s hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When do we meet again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The answer to that question was a clumsy arm pulling her closer as if to tell her they won’t have to meet again if they never let go. Tissaia chuckled, the warm feeling in her chest spreading over her whole body as she closed her eyes. They would probably sleep all day now and wake up when it was already getting dark again. That felt like an adventure in itself, Tissaia thought as her mind succumbed to sleep, and maybe, an adventure was exactly what she had needed. </span>
</p><p><br/>
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